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Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones. I can't concentrate on my work. " "Quarrel with me as much as you please, Thames, but hear me," returned Sheppard. Only you good ones— shirk. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword.

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